Origins
by C-Puff
Summary: An adaptation of the first PS2 Ratchet and Clank game to prose. Not a direct script adaption but follows the canon plot of the game with details expanded upon.
1. Veldin 11:45am

_Sooo. Yeah! This is a thing I thought I might do. An adaptation of the first Ratchet and Clank game that came out for PS2 in 2002. I never really considered adapting ANYTHING canon to prose before, but for some reason this seemed like a fun idea. Hopefully I can stick with it._

 _First things first! And feel free to skip this part if you just wanna read the story._

 _This is not a transcript of the game's dialogue with descriptions thrown in between. Rather, I wanted to adapt the story of the game into a narrative. Because of this, changes are made, details are added, and some things left out. The overall plot is the same, but the telling is different. So if an exchange of dialogue seems unfamiliar or different, there's your reason. One cannot just use a script for a video game verbatim in prose, I thought I'd get that out of the way before I got notes asking me about it._

 _And, on a more personal front, I have not forgotten 'Blood for Oil'. I am unsatisfied with the plot structure I'd lined out for it, so I'm basically gonna have to replan the entire thing from scratch. It's a daunting mission and I'm a little overwhelmed by the idea, so I haven't gotten to it yet. But I do not plan on abandoning that story altogether._

 _So here we go. Hopefully I can stick with this. Please leave feedback if you have any because sometimes that's all that keeps a story alive for me._

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

 **Veldin 11:45am**

Veldin is a very small planet.

Not really in size, but definitely in importance. It's very close to its sun, making the entire planet one large, orange desert only broken up by small blue-black seas. Now, I personally don't mind the heat, but it's pretty clear I'm in the minority, because the harsh sun and endless stretches of sand, rocks, and canyons meant that few people felt Veldin was anywhere to call home. The people that actually lived there were part of families that had been around for generations. Simply accepting that this was life, and without any real desire to find anything more interesting out there. It was easier just to stay put. The only other kinds of people on Veldin, were what I thought of as 'the humble settlers'. People who had come from who knows where, brought very little with them, and who only came to Veldin because you could _survive_ here with very little.

Nothing ever happened here.

I had lived on Veldin my whole life. Or at least, that was the easiest way to put it when anyone asked. Some unwanted space-rat who was easier to dump on Veldin than deal with, I imagine. I dunno. I was too young to remember, and no-one I've ever talked to seemed to have even seen whoever dumped me. So saying I'd lived on Veldin all my life was just easier to explain. And during my whole life, _nothing,_ had ever happened on Veldin.

I knew things happened on _other_ planets. Heck, compared to Veldin, just seeing the thick forests other planets even _had_ seemed like an event to me whenever I saw them on TV. Other planets out there had their entire surfaces covered with trees, and they had snow covered mountains, and there were planets flooded with warm tropical oceans filled with jewel-coloured fish, or choked in burning hot steam from active volcanoes, and some planets, the ones the TV showed most often, were covered in cities. Cities so huge you couldn't see the _planet_ part of the planet! Buildings, and machines, and ships, and robots so thickly packed together it was like a world of steel had grown into existence all by itself. And these cities were swarming with people! People who actually _did_ things! People who were famous all over the galaxy, because they could sing, or they were excellent on a hoverboard, or because they would risk life and limb to save people from monsters and bad guys.

Things _happened_ on other planets. But not on Veldin. Nothing would ever happen on Veldin.

I finally made up my mind one day that I would leave. It's not like I really had anything keeping me on Veldin anyway. I mean sure, it was my home, I guess, but one good thing about being dumped on a ball of dirt alone was that I didn't have anyone tying me to the place. I didn't have any family and, in all honesty, I didn't really have anyone I'd call so close a friend that they would make me want to stay. People on Veldin were nice, for the most part, but I just… didn't fit in. I never really did. I was always 'that weird one' who never seemed satisfied with how anything _was_ , and only thought about how things could be _better_. Whether it was machines, ships, or just life in general.

Somehow, I was in that weird position of being a complete, unimportant nobody, and yet Veldin _still_ felt too small for me.

So I made a decision that I was gonna leave. I didn't really know for how long, or where I would go. It didn't really matter that much. 'Anywhere but here', seemed the only thing on my mind. I had no idea what I thought I'd actually _do_ somewhere else. It was a scary idea at first. Maybe I'd fail even harder than I ever could on Veldin. Heck, maybe I'd get eaten by a fish, if I was so eager to see what an ocean was like. At first I almost called the whole idea off. But time went on, and my restlessness to just leave never went away. Eventually, wanting to leave was stronger than being scared of what would happen if I did.

I had a small garage attached to a house on Kyzil Plateau. It as a little out of town, but this suited both me and the neighbours fine. I could work on whatever invention I wanted in peace, and they didn't have to worry about me accidentally blowing up their backyards. Again.

I made my cash by fixing whatever needed fixing. Usually it was ships, which was fine by me. Fixing a ship meant both some cash was coming my way, as well as getting a free lesson in how to handle the things. Now, technically I didn't have a pilot's license, but when you're just fixing the things, and part of fixing a ship includes flying it across the plateau to make sure it was working properly, no harm was really being done, right? Sure, when I first started there were some… rough landings, but hey! I happened to be the best mechanic in town! So whatever I damaged I just fixed again, no extra charge! All nice and fair. They get a fixed ship, I get a free flying lesson.

Slowly, I managed to scrape together enough cash to start buying used ship parts. It was slow going, but it was at least happening. The people in town didn't have the newest ships to begin with, so any parts I could get from them were borderline trash. A lot of it I only managed to buy because the owner was convinced it was broken and wouldn't work at all. Sometimes they were right, but I was a _really_ good mechanic.

I finally managed to build my own ship, piecing it together slowly over months of work for bolts to buy parts, as well as work to actually put it together. Eventually, it was right on the verge of being spaceworthy. It was almost noon the day I felt I could put the finishing touches to it. The very last details needed before she might actually fly. In all honesty, I would've been more excited if it wasn't for one tiny setback.

The only ignition I was able to get hold of was originally from an old junker built on the cheap for robots. Basically, it was a death-trap of a ship which didn't have things like life support. Or air. Of course, not exactly necessary if you're a robot, but not the best kind of ship to sell to someone who might actually _enjoy_ breathing. To cover up this potential lawsuit, the designers had put a fail-safe in the ship's ignition so that only robots would be able to turn-over the engine. Great for the original ship and stopping some sap from accidentally suffocating. Not so great for me trying to work with spare parts and who happened to _not_ be a robot.

Basically, there was no way for me to turn on my own ship. Which was kind of a problem. When I'd originally bought the ignition to go with my engine, I figured that was a detail I'd work around when I got to it. Now the ship was almost finished and I still hadn't been able to 'work around' it. The wiring of the thing was way out of my league to try and fix. My guess was, the original ship designers had figured at some point that making the robotic ignition something you could just rewire might be bad for business. Again, good news for their insurance, not so good for me. Not helped by the fact that, at some point, it was discovered that if you actually got _hold_ of an ignition switch, it was extremely easy to rewire the thing into some kind of spaceship skeleton key. You could basically get the thing to unlock any ship you wanted. No key needed. This meant that these things were _really_ difficult to buy legit even if you _were_ a robot. And if you weren't? Good luck.

I stared at the open hood in front of me, going over the engine for the hundredth time that day alone. Everything was in place, just as it had been for days. Out of habit, or maybe somehow thinking something might've changed, I used the Gadgetron link on my glove to scan the ship once again. And, as always, the female voice helpfully informed me that my ship needed its 'robotic ignition switch' if it was gonna fly anywhere. I sighed to myself, picking up my wrench and uselessly tightening a few things, wondering where I was gonna get my hands on anything that could fix this.

The idea that there was nothing I could do did occur to me. But I was stubborn, and refused to accept it. I'd worked too hard and too long for a small detail to trip me up right at the finish line. I didn't expect life to be kind, but I refused to accept it could be that ironic.

I wondered, once again, if there was someone in town I could ask to help me out. Maybe buy one of these things when they went off-world and I'd pay them back somehow, but I knew it was useless. People on Veldin were simple and generally nice, apart from the handful of guys I did my best to avoid, but they weren't the kind of people who stuck their necks out for the weird kid who occasionally blew things up and didn't have any parents to 'keep him out of trouble'. No. No-one was gonna help me. I'd just have to work things out on my own, like always.

I was going over this in my head, only half focusing on the engine in front of me, when the sound of another ship broke my train of thought. The first thing that caught my attention was that the ship's noise was cutting through the sky in that way ships only did when they'd come from off-world. Off-world visitors was weird to begin with, but I also noticed it didn't sound so good. The engines sounded too hot and were coming in too fast. Not a good sign.

I snapped my gaze up to see the very thick, dark line of smoke tear across the sky, the sound of tortured engines trailing behind the visual by a fraction of a second. I spotted the dark speck leading the tail just as it disappeared behind an outcropping of rocks.

There was an explosion. A ball of smoke and flame plumed from where the ship had disappeared and the ground shook under me. A nearby collection of ferns exploded with activity as several toads ran from their cover in a panic at the noise.

I stared at the now pillar of smoke in horror. From sound alone I knew it was bad. I grabbed my wrench from where I'd dropped it, more out of instinct than thought, as my legs broke into a run, my heart hammering in my throat. The crash was closer to my garage than the town. I was the nearest person around for at least a mile. What I thought I could do to help, I have no idea. But the black smoke billowing ahead of me told me only one thing; fire. Fire and ships never mixed well. With that being the only clear thought running through my mind, I let panic carry me towards it, the idea that there might not be anyone left to help never even occurring to me.

* * *

 _Let me know if you guys spot any typos and such. I miss them sometimes and try to fix them as much as I can. Thanks :)_


	2. A Nearby Planet

_It's far too late/early for me to write any kind of proper AN. Here's the next part. goodnight._

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

 **A Nearby Planet**

The first thing I remember is being rather unceremoniously dropped on my head.

After the rather bumpy introduction to life, I sat up to try and get my bearings of, well, anything at all.

My built-in knowledge told me I was in the kind of room one would expect a robot to find himself in after activation. At least more or less. It was large and circular, with every inch of its walls covered with controls, buttons, blinking lights, and the occasional computer screen. The floor was mostly taken up by a large hole, which seemed to be the opening to a tunnel or chute of some kind. Behind me, presumably where I had come from, was a conveyer belt, currently stopped. There was no-one else in the room besides myself.

I stood up, taking note of my surroundings. The room was as expected for a newly activated robot, and yet at the same time I found myself immediately with several questions. There were several things I knew, for lack of a better word, instinctively. The first was that, as a robot, I had been built to serve a function. The second was that it was not normally for me to have no idea what that function was suppose to _be._ A robot is built because it is needed to do something, so logic would dictate that robots are built prepared and knowledgeable in what it is they are expected to do.

I was standing in a room with not even the slightest idea why I was there. This was not normal. A brief thought occurred to me that perhaps I was defective. That would be rather sad. And yet, apart from not having the slightest idea of why I _was_ , I did not _feel_ defective in any particular way. Was I suppose to go down the chute in the centre of the room? Somehow, that didn't feel like the wisest decision. I instead opted for looking over the immediate area to try and get a better idea of what I was suppose to do now that I found myself there.

As if expecting me, a smaller, more primitive robot peered from around one of the corners of a large computer tower. 'Infobot' was the word my thoughts offered me. They were not particularly sentient, but they were widely used for communication and, as the name would suggest, general information. It seemed a good place to start.

It opened its display and, rather surprisingly, showed a video recording that had obviously not been meant for me. I had expected perhaps some instructions, but decided there had to be a reason for the message to be left around, so paid attention nonetheless.

The man on the screen was short, wore a pin-striped suit, and had a rather tasteless pony tail which seemed to heighten the top of his bald head more than it distracted from it. The message must have been part of a mass broadcast, because as soon as he greeted me as 'Citizen of Novalis', a simple picture of the planet in question was shown to substitute for the fact that he had not actually spoken the name himself. Chances are this recording was going to be used for more than one planet's broadcast.

"My race, the Blarg, have a small problem," the man continued. "Our planet has become so polluted, overpopulated, and poisonous that we are no longer able to dwell here. But I, Chairman Drek, have a solution. We are constructing a pristine new world using the choices of planetary components available. So, what does this mean to you, you might ask? Using highly sophisticated technology, which you couldn't possibly understand, we will be extracting a large portion of your planet and adding it to our new one."

I balked at this. Surely the man wasn't being serious?

"Unfortunately, this change in mass will cause your planet to spin out of control and drift into the sun where it will explode into a flaming ball of gas, but, of course, sacrifices must be made. Thank you for your co-operation." There was a call to 'cut' from off screen but the message kept playing. "And if you don't like it, you can take your whiny snivelling snot nosed populations, form a line behind me and you can kiss my-!" He stopped mid-sentence, seemingly to address the same person who had called cut. "We're still on? Well turn it off, you idiot!"

The message cut off.

For one very brief second, I was utterly mortified at what I had just heard. However, my horror was short-lived as the infobot's screen folded back in on itself and I realised I was looking into the kneecaps of a very large, very aggressive looking robot. He did not seem particularly interested in discussing what I had just seen, making a swipe for the infobot to grab it. But I was faster.

I grabbed the smaller robot which folded up into its compact travelling mode as I broke into a run, slipping between the sentry-bot's legs. Precious seconds were saved as he had to turn to try and follow me, giving me, and the message I'd secured in the compartment on my chest, time to spot an open ventilation pipe. I didn't stop to think of where it may lead, I merely took it at a jump, not looking back.

My feet slid out from under me on smooth steel and I plummeted down the chute. I threw my arms over my face instinctively, half expecting to suddenly crash into spinning fan blades. Instead, the chute came to an abrupt stop several feet above rocky ground. I landed, rather hard, but didn't dare slow down. Behind me I could hear sirens start to blare. It was starting to seem I had not been created by choice on their part.

I snapped my gaze over the immediate area, trying to find somewhere I could hide or run to. My plans changed, however, when I noticed I had been dropped outside of a very large facility, right onto a landing strip for spaceships. Several of them stood lined up, ready for use.

I had no idea if I knew how to fly. I didn't think about it. I ran towards the nearest one, the sound of yelling spurring me on. I jumped onto the ship's wing and opened the cockpit just as I heard the first blaster shot go off. I fell into the driver's seat, hoping with all I had that the cockpit's glass could endure a few shots. Scrambling over the controls in front of me, I used my ignition switch to turn the thing on. Lights and readouts sprang to life as I grabbed the wheel and forced the ship forward, not bothering to check how flight-ready she was.

Hot blasts of energy chased me as I got her off the ground, pointing her upwards and towards space. I broke the stratosphere in seconds, causing the engine to groan and strain at me. It seemed flying was not something I was readily programmed with.

The ship's scanners started to blare at me as several blips appeared far too close to my tail than I liked. I had no idea what to do. I was sure the ship probably had weapons but I didn't dare let go of the wheel to try and find them. I just pushed the engines harder, forcing them to go faster. Empty space swallowed me from every angle as I searched the dark for somewhere, _anywhere_ I could go. One of the stars looked far larger than the rest and shone with an orange tint. I zeroed in on it, focusing on nothing else but getting to what I knew was a planet as fast as I could.

The blips on the scanner kept pace with me. There was a shrill beeping as a red dot appeared and streaked towards the point I knew represented me. I tugged the controls as hard as I could, the white streak from a missile cutting through the dark just on my left.

The planet I'd been aiming for loomed in front of me. If I could only get to its surface. I could make a run for it. I could hide myself away where they'd be too big to follow me. I could try and find help.

My ship bucked wildly as one of its thrusters exploded. Whether it was from shots fired by my perusers, or if it had simply given out from the strain, I did not know. Lights and warnings blared at me from every side as my hands trailed uselessly across the controls, trying to find something that could correct my flight.

Nothing helped. And I felt my ship roll as another explosion rocked my thrusters. I threw my arms around the wheel and gripped it as hard as I could. Trying to keep myself from being thrown against the cockpit's glass and fighting to pull the ship's nose up. But the wheel wouldn't budge.

The swirling orange landscape spun closer and closer towards me as my engines screamed. Nothing I did seemed to stop it from inevitably crashing full-force into the ground. I pressed buttons senselessly, I tugged at the wheel, I slammed a fist down on the dashboard. I might was well have been trying to pick a fight with a boulder. I was close enough to make out tall canyons and endless sand below me. There wasn't even so much as a shrub to cushion my fall.

I was going to die. And no-one would even know I'd existed.

As what I realised were the last few seconds before impact dragged out, I panicked. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled myself shut, realising with detached bemusement that I could fold myself closed into a box if I wanted. For all the good it would do me.

I do not remember the crash or the explosion that followed.

* * *

 _Leave me feedback and stuff 'right guys?_


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